


Every English Village Has Its Secrets

by afteriwake



Series: In Our Neck Of The Woods [1]
Category: Midsomer Murders - All Media Types, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Amused Greg, Amused Tom, Awkward Conversations, Awkwardness, Bisexual Greg Lestrade, Case Fic, Co-workers, Cohabitation, Complicated Relationships, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Drunk Gavin, Drunk Sally, F/M, Forced Bonding, Friendship, Gavin Is Jealous, Gen, Greg Feels, Greg Has Secrets, Greg Is A Genius, Jurisdictional Headaches, M/M, Married Couple, Murder Mystery, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Mycroft Feels, Mycroft IS the British Government, Mycroft's Meddling, POV Greg, Past Relationship(s), Pining Greg, Pre-Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Series Greg Lestrade, Pre-Series Mycroft Holmes, Pre-Series Sally Donovan, Sally Donovan & Greg Lestrade Friendship, Sally Is Jealous, Takes Place In 1999, Tom Is A Genius, everything is okay, one-upmanship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2018-08-17 07:59:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8136358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: When Greg and Sally get called to Midsomer County for a case, right from the start Greg knows it will be a headache when Mycroft offers him lodging (so long as he's alright with his former lover being his housemate for his time there), and it doesn't get much better when he meets DCI Tom Barnaby and immediately their Detective Sergeants take an instant dislike to each other when Sally arrives the next evening. And that isn't even getting into the actual case itself and all the secrets hidden in the village of Elverton-cum-Latterley...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So for the _longest_ time I've wanted to do a series that was a crossover between Sherlock and what feels like the millions of British (and one Australian) crime series I watch, and I've been stumped for things to write for a long while, and when I was going through things in my fic folder I had realized I'd actually written the entire first chapter of this fic and never posted it! And as this is a milestone for me (my 1,200th fic on AO3) I figured, why not post it now? So here you go. This first fic is a crossover with Midsomer Murders, but there will also be crossovers (I hope) with Inspector Lewis, Murder In Suburbia, Pie In The Sky and Mr.  & Mrs. Murder as well. Enjoy!

Lestrade groaned as the file was tossed onto his desk with a thud. He looked up at his superior with a look of resignation. “Don’t tell me this is the case out of Midsomer?” he asked.

The man nodded, giving Lestrade a commiserating glance. “’Fraid so, Gregory. You got the short end of the stick.”

“Bugger,” he muttered, running a hand over his face. Well, there went his plans for the bank holiday. His wife was going to go off with...well, whoever her newest bloke was, and he’d had plans to enjoy the solitude of the house by himself. It was better than listening to her harp at him for the long hours he put in. He picked up the file and started flipping through it. “Donovan!” he called out

The fresh-faced Detective Sergeant popped her head into his office as his commanding officer slipped out around her. “Yes, Inspector Lestrade?”

He grimaced slightly at that. Both of them had gotten hit in the newest round of promotions and he was still a bit uncomfortable with the new title. He knew part of the reason he’d gotten it was the help from Sherlock Holmes. He was only doing it as a favour for his brother. Mycroft had asked, and as they shared a history, he was willing to take on the task of helping keep his fresh out of rehab brother to the task of staying sober. The younger Holmes was a right handful, though. He was brilliant but he was a prickly arse. Sometimes Lestrade wondered if he was worth it. “You can call me Greg,” he said.

“Sorry,” Donovan said sheepishly. She stepped into the office. “What do you need?”

“We have a case that calls for us to go to Midsomer County,” he said. He looked at the crestfallen look that crossed her face briefly. “Yeah, I know. We’re the newbies, we get the shite assignments. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s just...I had plans. Of a romantic nature,” she said with a sigh. “Romantic weekend away in Devon and all that.”

Lestrade picked up a pen and absently chewed the end of it. “The bloke work here at the Yard?”

She shook her head, scoffing. “It’s hard enough for me to be taken seriously without dipping my feet in the company pool, so to speak.”

“Touché,” he replied. “When were you going to go?”

“This afternoon to Sunday,” she replied.

“Could you meet me in Midsomer on Saturday evening?” he asked. “You can come late, I suppose. I’ll see if I can make use of...” He trailed off as he flipped through the file. “DCI Barnaby’s staff.”

Donovan gave him a grateful look. “See, what everyone said about you is true. You truly are more decent than most of the other DIs around here,” she said.

“Don’t spread it around too much,” Lestrade said with a grin. “I don’t want that type of reputation to spread. I may have too many people trying to fight you for your job. I want you to stick around for as long as you can.”

“You’ll have me until I become a DI in my own right, I wager,” she said with a nod. “Let me know where to meet you and I’ll try and be in whatever village you need me to be in by eight at the latest.” She paused. “Which village are we headed to, anyway?”

Lestrade looked through the file more. “Elverton-cum-Latterley,” he said.

“Never heard of it,” Donovan remarked.

“Neither have I,” he said, closing the file. “I suppose we’ll hear all about it this weekend, though.” He nodded towards the door. “Go off and spend some time with your sweetheart. I’ll see you Saturday.” Donovan gave him one last smile and headed out of his office, and Lestrade leaned back in his seat. He was vaguely familiar with the basics of the case: a well-respected London businessman had been discovered strangled in an inn in the village, and his family was insisting that New Scotland Yard be a part of the investigation because they didn’t trust the “local plods,” he seemed to recall DCI Barnaby and his ilk being called, to handle it well enough. And it appeared the case was being tossed down to him, spoiling his temporary respite.

Wonderful.

He gathered up his things and began to make his way to the car park to get to his car and drive home. He was rather surprised to find someone waiting by his car, leaning on the handle of an umbrella. He slowed as he approached Mycroft Holmes, shifting his hold on his briefcase. “Mycroft,” he said.

“Gregory,” Mycroft said with a nod. “Word has reached me that you were assigned to be the liaison on the Islington case.”

Lestrade’s eyes widened slightly. He’d just gotten word himself...what, a half hour ago? How in the bloody hell did Mycroft know? And then he shook his head slightly. Minor position in the government. Yeah, it was that position and the secrets and all of that that had...not important. Lestrade simply nodded after a moment. “Yeah,” he said. 

“Well, it so happens that that I have lodgings that I use from time to time on the outskirts of Elverton-cum-Latterley that are an upgrade from the local inn there, which I believe part of which is being roped off as a crime scene,” Mycroft said.

“I was just planning on staying in Causton,” Lestrade said. “But...I suppose I could stay at your lodgings.”

“I do hope you don’t mind company, though. I’ve managed to clear my schedule so I had thought of taking advantage of the time to spend there. That won’t be a problem, will it?” he asked, a small amount of hesitancy in his voice.

Lestrade shook his head. “I’ll probably be too busy working,” Lestrade said. 

Mycroft nodded. “Very well. “I’ll make sure you have adequate directions on how to get there, and it will be ready for your arrival.” He tilted his head towards him. “Good evening, Gregory.”

“Good evening, Mycroft,” Lestrade said as Mycroft moved away from his car. Lestrade watched him walk away, then got in and sat behind the wheel, not starting the car. His relationship with Mycroft Holmes was interesting. They were a...something, he supposed. It was more than a dalliance but less than an actual relationship, something that had happened in their university days, when they’d attended rival unis. It had gone on a bit afterward, before he’d gone into the police force and met his wife, but it hadn’t had a bitter ending, more like...bittersweet. He’d always wondered what _could_ have happened, though, if laws were different, if the world was more welcoming. Because to be honest a part of him had loved Mycroft. A part of him still did, if he wanted to be _brutally_ honest.

And he wondered if Mycroft felt the same.

He doubted he would ever ask, though. There were just some questions he was better off not knowing the answer to. With that melancholy thought in his head, he put the car into drive and then backed out of his spot and began the drive home. He had to pack and get ready for a drive to Midsomer County in the morning.


	2. Chapter 2

He pulled up to the lodgings Mycroft had mentioned after sorting out a few things with his wife, knowing full well unless she was taking her newest lover out of town they’d probably end up in his home now, and picking out some clothing and the essentials and a book for good measure. The one he was reading now was meant for uni students but he had wanted to learn more about the sciences and see if he could ever wrap his head around the way Sherlock’s mind worked. Most of it made little to no sense, but some of it he understood, which he felt was at least a promising start.

Some things had changed a lot since uni, he thought as he got out of the car and looked at the lodgings, realizing it looked very familiar. So apparently, some things had not.

 _He built a place for himself that was like my mum’s place,_ Lestrade thought with a warm smile. Oh, he was sure inside it would be more upscale than his mother’s home, God rest her soul, could ever have hoped to be, but it brought about good memories of a time he sorely missed.

He wondered if Mycroft knew the basis of this place was in his possession now. His wife hated it because it was so far from London, but he’d loved the place she’d retired to when he went into uni. Apparently, Mycroft had too.

He went to the front door and found it unlocked and so he let himself in. To his surprise, it wasn’t nearly as posh as he had expected it to be. A little unlived in, sure, but he knew Mycroft still spent more time in his dungeon office than he did anywhere else. This place being unlived in was expected. “Hello?” he called out.

“In the kitchen, Gregory,” Mycroft called back. 

If the layout was the same he knew exactly how to get there, could even count the steps, and he was pleasantly surprised to find the kitchen looked damn near the same as his mum’s. “She would have loved this, you know. She always did like you more than Maureen.”

“Your mother was a woman ahead of her time,” Mycroft said with a fond smile.

“That she was,” Greg agreed with a nod. He could smell something cooking and tilted his head as he looked at Mycroft. “Am I expected to eat all of that delicious smelling stew or are you going to simply watch?”

“We’ll share the stew, but the bread is all yours,” he said. “Fresh from the baker, among one of the last loaves made today. I figured a good crusty sourdough would pair well.”

“For a man who didn’t seem to like food you always knew a lot about what went well,” Lestrade said. Oh, he knew the truth; Mycroft wasn’t as thin and slender as he was now during their time together, having dropped a few stone as the years went by, but he remembered he had always loved to help his mum cook. “And we don’t have to continue that line of thought if you don’t want to.”

“Much appreciated,” Mycroft said quietly. He went back to the stove to stir the stew. “Don’t breathe a word to my assistant that I do actually eat real food.”

“What’s her name? Amanda? Aretha?” 

“Andrea, but she is to be called Anthea in public,” he said. “Though I suppose she’s still a little green she’s an enormous asset. I may take her off her duty of monitoring Sherlock’s movements to spend more time with me in meetings. She gives invaluable advice. She picked up the secret language rather quickly.”

“Well, so did I,” he pointed out. 

“I had much enjoyment teaching it to you,” Mycroft said.

Lestrade found the tiniest blush on his cheeks, remembering just how he had been rewarded when he had done well. “Are you expecting similar things to happen now? I know you know about my situation.”

Mycroft shook his head. “As much as I might enjoy it, you made a vow to...her, and even if she can’t remember the similar ones she made in return you will not break yours, no matter how much you may want to.” Mycroft was oddly quiet as he said that last part, as though he wasn’t sure there was truth to what he was saying.

Greg moved over and turned Mycroft’s face towards him. “I do still care. It didn’t end badly, or as badly as it could have, it just ended. And perhaps, in time, things will be better.”

“Between you and her?” Mycroft asked.

“Between you and I,” he replied. “I only stay with her for my daughter, and she’s old enough to understand her mother doesn’t love her father and her father has loved men and women in his past.” For a moment he cradled Mycroft’s cheek in his hand. “She’d probably like you to boot.”

Mycroft just for a moment let himself shut his eyes and stand there, a small smile on his face. “So, there may be hope?” he asked.

“There may be,” Lestrade said. “Now just isn’t the time.”

“I understand, Gregory.” He lifted his head up and moved away from Lestrade’s palm, but the smile still stayed. At least it was all out in the open now, and he found himself meaning every word he had said. His heart had never stopped loving Mycroft, and while he’d had room for more people as years passed, he knew he had made a mistake in his marriage. When there was a chance, he would leave, once he knew he stood a good chance of getting custody of Eileen.

Until then, they simply had to wait, and he knew Mycroft would, and for some reason that made him immeasurably happy.


End file.
